


Brutus

by Notthedrones



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Detective John Doe, M/M, Sad Clown Bruce Wayne, Slow Burn, i dont believe in neurotypicals, if you like it thats your problem, no beta we die like robins, reverse au, this is for me and me alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29323953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notthedrones/pseuds/Notthedrones
Summary: Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire, and philanthropist is also probably the saddest man alive. Since the death of his family, he's done everything he could to rebuild Gotham from the ground up. Now, there's only one thing threatening him.Detective John Doe works alone since his early retirement from the GCPD. His unorthodox methods could be called madness but they've worked so far.Will either of them survive each other?
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	1. Gimme Gimme Gimme

**Author's Note:**

> Tags and pairings would be added by chapter.

Gordon almost missed the building altogether. The name on the front was all wrong and the address number was hidden beneath a flickering neon sign that advertised the best Chinese takeout in Gotham. Although its claims sparkled over their heads, the detectives didn’t trust it. In fact, he would be surprised if the place was even open. Despite the unlocked doors that swung open with one good shove with his shoulder the place was empty. No one came to greet the pair and there were no patrons inside despite it being lunchtime on a weekday. 

“This is a joke,” Gordon looked to Bullock who scoffed at the dusty restaurant. Their shoes made a sickly sound as they walked further inside, the soles of them getting stuck to the tacky floor that had clearly missed a few weeks’ worths of mopping.  
“Another one of _his _jokes,” Bullock continued to sneer, “Why are we taking this jackass seriously? He’s fucking with us!”__

____

“Suck it up, Harv,” Gordon was not in the mood today. This was also the last place he wanted to be but they were left with few options.

____

They looked back at the hand-made flyer in Gordon’s hands and followed its chicken-scratch instruction towards the creaky staircase tucked against the right side of the dining area. Climbing up the steps posed its own challenges since the boards were loose. Bullock lost his footing once but caught the metal railing nailed to the wall before he could plummet back into the restaurant. 

____

“This is bullshit!” He shouted but Gordon ignored his rantings in favor of making his way up to the second floor. At the top of the steps, the two came to a narrow hallway surrounded by locked offices. Each door was a stained off-white color and had a faded number on the front, but only one had a big smiley face painted on its clouded window.  
“Son of a bitch. Now I wish he was fucking with us.” 

____

Gordon silently agreed.  
\------------------------------------  
“Gimme Gimme Gimme a man after midnight. Want somebody to help me chase the shadows awaaaaay! Gimme Gimme Gimme a man after midnight. Take me through the darkness to the break of the daaaaay!”

____

The music thumped through the small office and covered the heavy knocks on his door. The man in the office was too enraptured with the stack of flyers on his desk. He was currently coloring in bubble letters that spelled “Private Eye,” with a stubby bit of lime green crayon. He would need to leave his office eventually to restock. He’s got five reminders written on the back of his hand but they’re faded and therefore, no longer serving their purpose. 

____

____

“John!” The shout of his name finally snapped him back to reality. Bright green eyes focused on the older man in front of him. How long had he been standing there? Did he forget to lock the door? Was he being robbed? All those questions blinked through his empty head before the chorus ended. Thankfully, it only took him another second to recognize the bushy mustache and everything else in his memory fell back in place. 

____

“Jimmy!” John shot up from his seat to pull the man over his desk and into a hug. 

____

“Jesus Christ, when was the last time you showered?” Gordon’s gripes fell of deaf ears as John started to ramble off about something or another. He just managed to catch bits and pieces about his supposedly busy week of solving crime and chewing bubble gum. 

____

“But I’m all outta gum.” 

____

“Yeah, sounds like you’re doing great,” Gordon says that but the man in front of him has never looked more unhinged. His hair was so greasy it looked brown instead of its usual red and the only color on his face was the dark purple bags under his eyes.  
“I’m glad retirement hasn’t changed your sense of style,” A soft jab at John’s loud clothing. The checkered blouse screamed women’s isle from Target but the pants said stolen off a dead fisherman. Knowing John, that could be exactly where they’re from. 

____

Unfortunately, Bullock decided to add his own dose of reality to the conversation.  
“Do you actually pay to be here?” He was currently trying to open the window behind John’s desk before realizing it was barred shut. 

____

“Good security,” John explained away, never addressing Bullock or welcoming him as he did with Gordon. 

____

“Oh, I bet it makes you feel secure. It’s almost as good as the security in Arkham, huh?” Bullock’s words got John up from his seat. Despite his frail figure, Gordon knew the man could pack a punch. He’s seen it before.  
The other detective stood his ground against the man and the two glared at each other with venom in their eyes, like old times. Gordon was worried about a fight breaking out until John surprised them both by falling back into his seat with a polite nod. 

____

“So, what brought you, gentlemen, into my office today?” Like the flip of a switch, he was all smiles and no animosity. That put Gordon back at ease. 

____

John turned his music down so he could give his old friend his undivided attention. It felt comfortable sitting across from the commissioner as he talked. The older man spoke slowly and placed roadblocks out in front of him. Blocks were keywords that John could hold onto. He was saying something about an old case; five years ago, burglary, no prints, no face, a stolen diamond-no- a diamond necklace.

____

“The cat!” John didn’t mean to shout like he did but it was always exciting to beat others to the punchline. 

____

“Yes-” Gordon sighed, wishing he hadn’t been interrupted but glad to know that John was aware of what he was talking about. It was always hit or miss with the guy.  
“The cat, we suspect they’re back to Gotham according to a series of break-ins that have occurred during the past week.” 

____

“You mean the three at the Gotham art museum? Three break-ins but no missing paintings. Doesn’t sound like her. Too sloppy. She woulda got it the first time. Not rely on the third time being the charm. ” 

____

“But the third break-in matches the MO. Maybe she slipped up? We do have more guards since the charity event is this weekend,” Gordon supplied. It was easy to believe that the extra muscle could have scared them away.” 

____

“And what makes you think it’s a lady?” Bullock butted in, his focus on John who gleefully twiddled his thumbs. 

____

“I thought I made that clear in my reports.” 

____

“That’s why we’re here.” Gordon placed the old file on John’s desk. The front of it said ‘classified’ and ‘property of John Doe’, scrawled in sharpy, barely legible.  
“We can’t read this. Any of it.” Gordon dug up the old case files to help them get ahead of the cat burglar but much to everyone’s annoyance, the lead detective that handled it was John Doe. The man was famously known for his madness method of taking notes. 

____

John quickly reached out to take the papers like he was expecting Gordon to snatch them back.  
“And now you need my help on the case. I dunno Jimmy boy. I’m a pretty-pretty-pretty busy guy. But hey! You know what? For you, anything.”

____

“No, I need you to tell us what this says. That’s it. You’re not on this case.” Gordon knew this would happen. John was still not over his “early” retirement no matter what the man said, “I just need to know what you know. Please, John.” 

____

John didn’t look too happy about the clarification but he melted under Gordon’s plead. He was the only person who showed John the respect he deserved and he didn’t forget that easily. He’d do just about anything Gordon asked as long as he said ‘please’.  
“I know our kitty is a lady because I have a witness.” 

____

“Wait a minute, I remember the witness being a drunk who-If I must remind you-was five blocks away from the crime scene and got you laughed right out of the building.” Bullock, once again picking a fight, earned another one of John’s glares. 

____

“ _She _took the service tunnels under the city. Or did _you _forget when I proved it by finding her discarded equipment there?”____

_____ _

____

_____ _

“Which is how we know she’s back. We found more traces of her after the third strike. Ok, now we’re getting somewhere.” Gordon tried to move the conversation on but John was not done. 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“Jimmy, you’re wasting your time. The museum wasn’t the cat.” Crossing his arms, John gave the men a smug smile, like he knew something they didn’t.  
“I mean sure, it looks like a cat and I bet if a crime scene could speak it’d meow. But it’s not.” 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“Can you just-tell us why. Why not?” 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“Nuh-uh, not unless you hire me. I’m a professional you know?” 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“I’m smelling shit here! You’re just trying to get back on the case!” Bullock pointed an accusatory finger at John and ohhhhhh-John so wanted to lean in and bite it off.

_____ _

____

_____ _

“Hey! Wanna see a magic trick?” 

_____ _

____

_____ _

_____ _

____

_____ _

Gordon and Bullock watched as the man dug around his desk for a pack of cards.  
“John, we don’t have time for this.” But John was not listening. He fanned the deck out towards Gordon with a strained smile. 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“Pick a card, any card-but not the wrong card.” He held his pose so Gordon could think his choice over before carefully selecting one.  
“Ooooh, that’s a good one. I can feel it.” He folded the cards back together and got the commissioner to slide the one he picked back in.  
“Now watch! Before your very eyes-”

_____ _

____

_____ _

“That’s it! I’m done playing games.” Bullock interrupted John’s moment by grabbing the sleeve to his shirt and hoisting it up. As he did several cards slipped out and onto the desk. 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“Spoilsport, you ruined my trick!”

_____ _

____

_____ _

“We all know how it goes. You’ve done it a hundred times and it’s never funny. Christ, you’re as looney as ever. Come on, Jim,” Bullock went to the door to leave but Gordon stayed seated. There was something about the grin on John's face that said he wasn’t done. 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“You’d think, after seeing my trick a hundred times. You’d know how it’d really go, Bullock, check your front pocket.” Bullock gave John a skeptical look before patting his hand over the pocket. His brow furrowed as he felt something that wasn’t there before.  
“Is this your card?”  
\------------------------------------  
“What a fucking joke,” Bullock thumbed at the joker card like he expected something to peel away-searching for obvious evidence of tampering. 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“It’s misdirection.” John was being vague on purpose because he wanted Gordon to let him in on the case, that much was obvious, but he gave them something to work with. It was almost like a riddle, a really shitty riddle. No, a pun.

_____ _

____

_____ _

“Copycat.” That’s what John was saying. A copycat who was using the burglar’s methods to lead them astray. 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“What was that?” Bullock asked as they got into the car. 

_____ _

____

_____ _

Gordon gave his old partner a look and conveyed exactly how fucked they were, especially Bullock. He was the most fucked in this situation. 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“You’re fucking kidding me. We said he wasn’t going to get involved. You said we can’t let him get involved! I am not working with that clown again!” 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“He’d only be a consultant-”

_____ _

____

_____ _

“No!”

_____ _

____

_____ _

“Just until we can get the painting back-

_____ _

____

_____ _

“No!” 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“Or at least figure out-”

_____ _

____

_____ _

“No!”  
\------------------------------------  
John ignored the mess of cards on his desk and even swept some off his computer straight onto the floor. With some quick taps on the keyboard, he was able to pull up the latest piece of news discussing Wayne's Charity ball. John loved a good party but he’s never been to any of the annual Gotham events. Unless it was the street fair that came around every spring. He used to play hooky from work and go just to gorge himself on fried food.  
He started to giggle as he remembered last year when Gordon scolded him in front of the bull-pin for showing up two hours late with his face painted like a tiger.  
John was started to rabbit hole down fond memories when movement across the computer’s screen caught his attention. It was an update from the big Wayne himself. It seemed like Gotham’s favorite party host was addressing the commonfolk on livestream. 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“I have total faith in our police force-” 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“You shouldn’t,” John was only talking to the screen. Bruce Wayne could not hear him and continued to talk about the event and encourage people to come. Of course, it was by invite only but that wasn’t mentioned. Everyone knew that only those with money to burn or a face to show could afford to get inside.  
“They can barely tie their own shoes!” He cackled when Wayne once again gave his support to the GCPD. “Now if I was there-” That was a thought. If John was at the museum he could definitely find something to go on. The burglars were definitely trying to throw the cops off by staging a heist but that means there’s something they want that the GCPD didn’t know about. But what would the Gotham Art Gallery have that wasn’t already on display and ripe for the picking? 

_____ _

____

_____ _

John gave it some real thought but he was drawn back to Wayne’s speech. The man was still talking. About what? John didn’t know but it gave him a new idea. If the burglars wanted a painting, wouldn’t it be easier to steal one when there wasn’t a high-security charity event going on? They clearly waited until Wayne’s party came around. 

_____ _

____

_____ _

“What do you know?” John asked the screen while tapping his finger against Wayne’s forehead.  
“What goes on at your little parties?” The question came back unanswered but John wasn’t done with him yet.

_____ _

____

_____ _


	2. Doctor Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of depression and being a #girlboss

“Eddie!” The poor man was startled into dropping everything in his arms. Papers scattered at their feet and blocked off the main entrance where people were coming in and out of Wayne Enterprises. Observers walked around their frazzled coworker as he tried to gather his things but no one spared a helping hand except for John.   
Edward noticed there was no apology. 

“Funny running into you here.” John handed Edward his, now crumpled, documents with a cheerful smile. The smile did nothing for him and his annoyance was palpable. 

“Is it? Funny? Running into me, at W.E, where I work? Is it funny that you clearly hunted me down at my job and waited here by the doors for me to step out? Are you stalking me, again?” He asked the last bit with a glare through the thick lens of his square glasses. 

“What? Noooo, this is just a coincidence. Serendipity since you’re the exact man I need in my life right now.” John ignored the accusations in favor of hooking his arm around Edward’s in case he tried to escape. 

“You are stalking me again!” His shouts were ignored by security, and anyone else who happened to pass by the pair, as he was obviously being pulled out of the building. If he was getting kidnapped, no one made a move to stop it from happening. 

“It’s not stalking if we’re friends. Right, Eddie? We’re friends. Why-we’re best pals. Remember when we used to work together?” 

“Yes, I remember that. It was a living hell and over a year ago!” Edward responded once he realized the grip on him wasn’t being let up. John was deceptively strong.   
“Which reminds me, why aren’t you in Arkham? Ooooh-Did you escape?” Edward’s eyes lit up at the prospect of being able to watch John be dragged back if he called the cops right now.  
That look was smacked off his face when John hit him at the back of his head. 

“I was _not _sent to Arkham. That is just another nasty rumor that’s been-that’s been thrown around by liars! Liars who are trying to discredit me and everything I’ve done for this city!” Edward tried to escape again to avoid John’s wrath but the fingers wrapped around his forearm dug in.  
“I’ve just been busy. Not in an asylum but with work. I got my own business now. The GCPD was just holding me back, you know? All those suits and ties with their lying faces. I couldn’t stand it!”   
That was not what Edward heard but he kept his mouth shut, for once, in case John decided to hit him again. __

__“So-”_ _

__“That’s right, I’m a P.I now! P-r-i-v-a-t-e I-n-v-estigator.”_ _

__“I know what a P.I is, you don’t have to spell it out-You didn’t even spell the whole thing!” Edward finally twisted himself free with a hard yank. He could still feel John’s touch even while separated. He definitely had some bruising, “Aha! And you-you-you-you-” Edward was at a loss of words as his brain frazzled. He’d come up with a good insult, but it probably wouldn’t show up until an hour later._ _

__“Ouch, good burn. You really got me there, Eddie. Always had a sharp tongue didn’t you?” John didn’t make another move on the man and instead opened the door in front of them. The door wasn’t to W.E and Edward realized they had walked all the way down the block to a coffee shop. The same one Edward stopped by every day after work.  
John looked at Edward and Edward looked to John. John continued to hold the door open until Edward gave in and walked inside.   
“You still like your coco with peppermint whip cream, right?” John, as always, was right.   
\-------------------------------------  
“So, why are you here? We haven’t spoken in over a year and if I’m being honest, I’ve enjoyed that,” Edward said between sips of his hot chocolate. It was in the largest size the coffee shop had to offer so he was far more willing to listen to John babble. This was by far, the nicest kidnapping he’s been a part of. _ _

__“What? You haven’t been able to figure it out by yourself? Eddie-Eddie, I know you already have,” John used Edward’s love of puzzles and needed to be right to pull information from him often and he was usually too full of himself to notice._ _

__“Hmmm,” He hummed into his next sip, “You’re a Private Investigator and we haven’t spoken in over a year. You were dismissed from the GCPD so I imagine you started this business so you can keep running around Gotham like a mad man. You haven’t needed me before, so why now? Because I work at Wayne Enterprises. You probably think I know Wayne-I do, by the way, he hired me _personally _.” John had to bite his tongue at the brag. He highly doubted that was true.  
“Wayne is hosting a charity event this week. That has been all over the news, on top of a series of attempted break-ins...you’re invested in these break-ins.” ___ _

____“Jimmy thinks it’s the cat.”_ _ _ _

____“The cat, of course, one of your old cases, and Gordon told you this. He came to you for help and you figured something out. Oh-but Gordon isn’t going to hire you because if he did, he’d be insane. So now, you want to do this alone.”_ _ _ _

____“Not alone, when I got you.”_ _ _ _

____“...You want me to get you into the party because employees have been invited.”_ _ _ _

____“Ding ding ding! There’s our winner! You deserve a prize. Oh! I know, how about a handsome plus one on your arm?”_ _ _ _

____“You’re not only certain that I have an invite, but you think I’d take you as my date? You’re delusional.”_ _ _ _

____“You just said employees have been invited. Are you saying your dear friend Mr. Wayne didn’t give you, his star engineer, an invite to the hottest event of the year? I thought you two were buddies,” John hid his smile behind his own drink. The thick foam on top disguised the knowing grin from Edward who was silently seething._ _ _ _

____“I’ll have you know that I do, in fact, have an invitation and I will be there. Just not with you.”_ _ _ _

____“With who?”_ _ _ _

____“Who?”_ _ _ _

____“Who are you taking with you, then? If you won’t take me?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t have to take anyone! I am going alone. Who says I need to be with someone to go?” Instantly on the defensive, Edward was exactly where John wanted him._ _ _ _

____“Oof, couldn’t get anyone huh? I thought with all the people at Wayne’s you’d find someone new. I mean-” John laughed, “It’s been a year hasn’t it!?” Now he’s done it. Edward’s face was as red as his hair. Whether it was anger, embarrassment, or a mix of both the man was fuming now.  
“Of course, you could always meet someone at the party, but wouldn’t that be hard? Doing it all alone without someone to break the ice? Someone, charming and witty. Everything you’re not.” _ _ _ _

____“Witty, maybe. Charming? Absolutely not. You look like you’re homeless.” But John brought up one good point. He had a way with people that always got him what he wanted. It was almost sinister how he got criminals to open up to him. Edward has seen the man’s interrogation tactics and it was amazing the CIA hasn’t swooped in and picked him up yet. “Lucius Fox, he’s going to be there.”_ _ _ _

____“Who?”_ _ _ _

____“Fox, the man is a genius and in charge of all technology projects at Wayne Enterprises. I’ve been trying to talk to him about my newest proposal for months but every meeting I get has been pushed back. If you can help me talk to him at the party, then I’ll get you in.”_ _ _ _

____“Keeps pushing you back, huh?” Jeez, take a hint. John fell into a fit of giggles that earned him a few stares but Edward was used to it.  
“I can do that, no problemo.” He should probably look up Lucius Fox, so he at least knows who he’s targeting at the party but otherwise, he had total faith in his schmoozing skills. _ _ _ _

____“Great, meet me on the corner of Boulevard and 6th street at 7, sharp. Wear a suit, with no more than one-” Edward held up his finger to John’s face, “one pattern.”_ _ _ _

____John suppressed his urge to snap the finger off and nodded so that Edward knew he had listened to his instructions._ _ _ _

____“And please, shower beforehand.”  
\-------------------------------------  
John decided it was a good day for a walk. Sure, winter never left, and the air continued to chill his bones but the sun was out. For once the smog over Gotham didn’t block the light and everything felt just a little warmer than what you’d usually get in February. John counted his silver linings every time he passed over a crack on the sidewalk; Edward would help him meet Wayne, Gordon came to him for help!-although the man did say John wasn’t on the case-he didn’t care! The cat had always been his white whale and Gordon would realize that soon enough. He _needed _John. The GCPD needed him. John just had to show them how much they missed him. If he solved this case then maybe they’d show him some respect.___ _ _ _

______No wait, John didn’t need to prove them anything! He was very successful on his own. He was a PI with his own clients. People who looked to him when the police failed them. He was being unrealistic again, something his therapist pointed out during last week’s session. He was supposed to be working on small goals.  
He didn’t need to go looking for a suit, he needed to go looking for his client._ _ _ _ _ _

______His client..._ _ _ _ _ _

______John smacked his palm over his face with frustration. He had totally forgotten that he had an actual paying client that week. He got so caught up in the euphoria of trailing a real case that he almost completely dismissed the job he’s supposed to be on._ _ _ _ _ _

______People on the street quickly passed by the strange man as he had a miniature meltdown in the middle of the sidewalk. Not an uncommon sight in Gotham but it did mean that John was in a prime spot for getting run over._ _ _ _ _ _

______John was knocked on his back by another heavy body. Looking up he watched as the person who ran into him jumped back up and kept running without apology.  
His ass ached from the impact and John felt his vertigo kick in. Even on the ground, everything was spinning. The world around him shifted and moved which left John feeling like he was on a raft out at sea. _ _ _ _ _ _

______“My purse!” A shrill scream shouted out. The sound was just startling enough to snap him back into reality just in time to see the mugger, who had run into him, run off.  
\-------------------------------------  
Dr. Quinzel told John that he needed to think smaller. It was the main takeaway from their last session together about a week ago. She even helped him set up a goal chart with small, simple, tasks that would help him get through everyday life._ _ _ _ _ _

______John had a habit of having a one-track mind. When he got focused on a single goal, then nothing else mattered, and if that goal was not achievable, he’d let himself waste away. Quinzel would almost say it was admirable. The man had a passion and wouldn’t let anyone or anything get in the way of his plans. However, she was not stupid. John’s drive was caused by self-satisfaction alone. She believed the only reason he became a detective was that it allowed him to fixate on the grim and dark of Gotham. It also didn’t help that he was greatly rewarded every time he solved a gruesome case and that supplied the serotonin he’d never receive otherwise. In short, the man was depressed._ _ _ _ _ _

______A shock, right? That’s what her colleagues said when they learned about her patient. John Doe was no figurehead but his name got around in Gotham for his extreme personality. He was cheerful and inappropriately funny on camera whenever any of his cases made it on the news. He had a heroic persona and a heroic tracklist that made him likable._ _ _ _ _ _

______Even in Arkham, he shamelessly flirted with the orderlies and made friends with the other patients. He was practically a star patient and would have been released even earlier if it wasn’t for Quinzel._ _ _ _ _ _

______She knew depression. It was something that has been a part of her family for years and she could recognize the symptoms a mile away. Despite the way he laughed and joked, there was always an underlining sadness. He had a habit of being self-deprecating and passing it off as laughing at himself. He brushed off dark stories of his past like they were never traumatizing and he even went out of his way to tease anyone who tried to take him seriously. Then, when he was alone, the smile was gone._ _ _ _ _ _

______When she first saw John without his smile, it nearly broke her heart. He needed help and Quinzel was going to give it to him no matter what. With renewed energy, she swore to never cut corners. John Doe was going to receive the best god-damn care in Gotham even if it killed her._ _ _ _ _ _

______Or until she killed him._ _ _ _ _ _

______She had accepted the task of being John’s emergency contact when he left Arkham because he had no other family in Gotham, outside of Gotham, or within this universe. The man was a mystery and a half wrapped in a burlap sack and tossed over the Gotham bridge. So, she felt bad for him. Until right this moment when she received a call from the GCPD._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Mister J!” Her voice rang out through the precinct like a fire alarm. The officers who were off duty sat up straighter and the unruly shrank back into their cells. Her shout also alerted Commissioner Gordon that the doctor was here and needed to be taken back into his office, now._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Dr. Quinzel,” He waved her over and away from the on-sight cells where she was searching for her patient, “He’s in my office.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The clack of her shiny red heels was like bell tolls to John’s ears. A call to bring out your dead because there was no escaping the reaper._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What did you do?” It was even worse than John imagined, she didn’t sound angry, she sounded disappointed._ _ _ _ _ _

______“He shot a mugger with an unlicensed firearm,” Gordon started explaining while John tried to disappear into the chair he sat in. He refused to meet Quinzels eyes even as she rounded him and stood in front of the commissioners’ desk._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It wasn’t my gun,” He said so softly that Quinzel could only believe he’s been arguing about it all day, “The schmuck tried to shoot me, so I took it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You were being mugged?” She asked, already knowing the answer. If John were the one the mugger attacked, then he wouldn’t be here. He’d have run off before anyone realized what happened._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No, it was some lady but I was right there! I stopped the guy!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You shot him.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“He’s not dead! Right, Jimmy? If it weren’t for me, the cops wouldn’t have caught the guy!” There was the energy Quinzel was used to seeing. John’s eyes were wild and his voice raised up to talk over Gordons own shouts. The commissioner was just as unhappy about this situation as John but both men were too stubborn to stand down. It gave the doctor a headache._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Mister Gordon, if you’d please lower your voice, I’d like to say something,” It wasn’t a question and the man had the sense to listen to the good doctor’s orders, “Mister J, I’m sure the lady you helped out is more than grateful for it, but you know you’re not allowed to have guns.” John made a move to say something but stopped when she held her hand up to halt him, “Even if it wasn’t yours, you know this is something that can get you into serious trouble. Then who can you help?” She finally turned to look back at Gordon although her tone never changes, “How much trouble is he in?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“For shooting a mugger? Legally, not too much but because of his special case we need to put him on house arrest until his next evaluation.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I can’t be on house arrest!” John had work to do and people to see! He couldn’t be stuck in one place._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You could have just walked away Doe! And you know it. You could have kept walking,” It sounded like Gordon was continuing an old argument that John was not fond of because the man started shouting again._ _ _ _ _ _

______Quinzel waited until both men tired out just enough for Gordon to hand her the release forms for John and his new ankle monitor. One of the officers outside the door gave John and the Doctor a ride back to his residence, the shitty office above the Chinese restaurant, in blessed silence._ _ _ _ _ _


	3. Don’t Bring Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally got to Bruce!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence warning

“You can’t use ABBA to ignore your problems.” Quinzel stepped carefully around the papers that littered the floor around John’s office and carefully picked up bits of trash that she spotted amongst the wreckage. 

“I’m not ignoring them, how can I when they’re strapped to my leg!” John lifted the pant leg to show off his fancy new tracker wrapped around his skinny ankle, “Kinda hard, if you ask me.” 

How could a day that started out so well turn around so fast? Well, if anyone was familiar with poetic irony, it was John. He always had the most rotten luck but it’s never stopped him before. If John was anything it was tenacious. He just needed to figure this out and he couldn’t do that with Quinzel here. 

“I’m not ignoring them,” He tried again before turning up the radio to a sexy ten that blasted Mama Mia for the whole block to hear. 

“Then should we talk about today?” Quinzel raised her voice to match the music but it wasn’t helping. She didn’t want to start screaming so she threw her coat over the speakers to muffle the music without risking her hand by reaching past John to turn it off, “I feel like there’s a lot to unpack.”

They weren’t actually scheduled to talk until Friday but a lot happened that needed to be addressed.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have shot that guy! I got daddy’s lecture already,” John snapped at the doctor before flopping down on the pull-out couch that was crowded against the back wall like he would when lounging in Dr. Quinzel’s office back in Arkham, “What do you want to hear? That I feel sorry? Because I don’t.” 

If there was a list of things not to say to your therapist, this would be on it. Actually, it was. John had that list somewhere on his desk but he didn’t have enough care at the moment to watch himself. 

“Then what do you feel? Can you describe it to me?” Quinzel leaned against his work desk and pulled out her phone to make notes on its notepad. She didn’t want to miss anything if they broke through that evening so she waited in poised preparation for John to start talking. 

“You know, when you’re around no one takes me seriously?” 

That was new. Quinzel didn’t realize she was going to be the center of John’s frustrations right now after what happened with Gordon, she suspected they’d be discussing him, “Because you don’t like me mothering you?” That was a common theme with most patients. They saw her as a mother figure and most of them didn’t like that. 

“No, no, I have enough mommy issues to not care about that. I mean because you’re a doctor. Stopping a mugger used to be nothing for me! Just another day another dime. But-ever since they shipped me off to Arkham, no one wants to listen to me. They labeled me looney and decided that nothin will make up for it. Then you showed up!” 

Quinzel’s fingers moved quicker as she wrote her notes on what John was saying as he said it. She was starting to see where the frustration was coming from, “When I picked you up, I reminded everyone why you needed me.” 

“Exactly! They all think I’m crazy,” John sat up and clutched the front of his shirt and pleaded dramatically, “Oh John! What are you doing out in public!? You can’t have that gun-you might kill someone-you might shoot your eye out- like you haven’t held one for ten flipping years! And why?! Because I’m suddenly crazy! News flash! I’ve been crazy since day one and they haven’t cared until now! But now, nothin I say or do matters until my doctor gives the OK!”  
He pointed away from himself and back at Quinzel, “They see you in your perfect-” He spat the word perfect, “white coat and your little clipboard and just know you’re there to drag me back to Arkham.” 

“You’re not crazy,” John heard his doctor say for probably the hundredth time since they’ve met, “I know I am starting to sound like a broken record but it’s true. No one is just crazy. There ain’t no medical diagnosis for crazy. I do not bring in ‘crazy’ patients to declare sane with a certificate after a week in Arkham. Everyone needs help and there’s nothing wrong with asking for it.” 

“You’d be the only one to say that.” 

The doctor sighed and pocketed her phone to give John her undivided attention, “You know what? Fuck them! Right? You are a good man, John Doe. Not because you were a good detective but because you are trying to better yourself. Yes, this sucks, but sometimes getting better sucks. Crazy people don’t just sit in therapy for fun. I’m here because you know I can help you and I am more than pickled pink to have that honor. So, don’t let those donut-fed assholes get to you. They just can’t grasp the idea of being better.”

John sat there quietly with a stern expression that made his vibrant eyes look so dull as he let the doctor’s words float around his head. The silence held on for a few more minutes and it started to make both patient and doctor uncomfortable. Quinzel started to feel like she’s said something that was maybe a little too impactful. She always did have trouble keeping her thoughts to herself but sometimes they were just too loud to contain. 

“Let’s change the subject. I can see today has left you with a lot to think about, would you like to switch over to your mommy issues?” The topic change was just drastic enough to get a reaction out of the man. Harley smiled when John let out a sharp laugh that broke his brooding silence and quickly developed into a fit of giggles. 

\---------------------------------------------------

By the time John was left alone his little office was a little cleaner than how he left it before. His doctor had a habit of tidying things up as she saw fit which usually got on his nerves but not tonight. Instead, he was too caught up with figuring out how he was supposed to leave the building at all. 

This wasn’t just about the charity ball he was planning on crashing in just a few days. He also had a job that needed to be done. It took John some time to find the paperwork thanks to Quinzel’s meddling but he eventually pulled it out of a stack that had been neatly organized on his desk. 

He would have to fix that later. For now, he reviewed the case files. According to a Mr. M, a client who only spoke with John over the phone and sent him cash in the mail, he was looking for his sister who had gone missing several months ago. The photo attached showed an adult woman in probably her mid 20’s with short black hair dark eyes and a dark complexion. She was pretty hot but apparently got mixed up in some gang activities. 

“It’s always the pretty ones you have to look out for,” John mused before going back over her last known location; the warehouses by the docks. There, Penguin ran his business so it wasn’t too shocking that’s where she’d be. Chances were she was another young lady who got swept up by Gotham and got pulled in by someone’s recruitment team. 

Of course, now with the ankle monitor John couldn’t dip down to the narrows and question anyone like he first planned. He still had a few connections in the area but no numbers that were still valid on his phone. He’d have to be there in person if he wanted information. 

He looked back down at the device keeping him homebound and glared at it as if he would suddenly produce heat vision and melt the damn thing off but nothing happened. 

“Well, a man could dream,” John sighed dejectedly. That’s what he got for holding out hope that he’d suddenly wake up one morning with inhuman abilities but you could blame YA novels and Metropolis for that. 

Frustrated and feeling a little too constricted, John wiggled out of his clothes until he was down to his underwear and yanked the cushions from the couch so he could pull out his bed. 

If he couldn’t do what he wanted then he wasn’t going to do anything at all! John let the exhaustion sweep over him and drag him down into a fitful sleep.  
\---------------------------------------------------  
There was something about the night that left men restless. Something in the dark and stillness that allowed their minds to wander in order to fill the shadows because they can not comprehend nothingness. Perhaps because there is nothing more terrifying than nothing. 

“When is ‘nothing’ the most terrifying answer to a question? How much money do you have? No. What is waiting for you? Close. What happens when you die? That is where the answer drives men mad.” A half-empty glass of whisky is brought up to thin lips while the words hung in the air while the man waited for a reaction from the sniveling rat on his knees. 

“...You’re fucking insane!” A weak response that earned a bullet to the skull and fresh paint added to the easel behind it. Anyone would argue that the addition had ruined the expensive piece but the shooter preferred the splash of color. Abstract art always bored him until he found new ways to innovate the paintings. Like adding a bit of life to them. 

“Would anyone else like to be relieved of their madness?” Shiny shoes twisted over the slick cement floor while the man holding the gun looked around at his audience. No one said a word which was disappointing but probably a wise decision. Bruce was not feeling forgiving tonight, “Fine, let’s close the curtains on this meeting.” 

The gun was passed off to a young man who quickly appeared at Bruce’s side with a handkerchief to wipe off the handle. He cleared away the prints before tucking it into the dead man’s coat pocket, “Should I arrange the body to be dropped off at Ace?” The boy asked with eyes sparkling with excitement from the brutal scene that just took place. He was supposed to keep any questions to himself but no punishment fell on him for disobeying. Instead, Bruce responded with patience. 

“You’re picking up fast, Dick,” Bruce offered just enough praise to his protege to encourage the kid’s quick thinking, “But, we need to change tactics. Have the body delivered to warehouse 13.” 

“Huh? But then Penguin would know we broke the contract. I thought-” 

“Things have changed. You’re a sharp kid, so I won’t spoon-feed this to you. Tell me, why would I want Cobblepot to know?” Sharp blue eyes pierced Dick on the spot like a teacher asking a project-student a difficult question. He waited with interest to see if his student would rise on his own. 

“He-uh-his numbers have been up for the past month, and-” He looked to Bruce for any sign of being on the right track but the man remained stoic, “the Falcone’s lost another block last week...he’s taking more of Gotham.” 

“Cobblepot is a dangerous man,” Bruce picked up from there, “I underestimated his perseverance and mistook his hunger for misplaced confidence. He won’t work with us if he thinks he can control us.” The Wayne sipped on his whisky until the glass was emptied before dropping it into Dick’s hands, “Falcone knows his place, but Cobblepot is starting to get too pushy. It is time we push back.”

“Have you thought about who will replace him?” The hope in Dick’s eyes was almost too much for Bruce but he’d sadly have to crush his dreams, “If you’re getting rid of him, I think-”

“That is a job for someone replaceable,” Bruce interrupted, “You are not replaceable,” Dick grumbled as his messy hair was pushed back by a large hand that just couldn’t leave the tussled locks alone without wanting to put them back into their place, “Have the body dropped off then I want to see you back at home before eleven. It’s a school night.”


	4. 9 to 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to write about Bruce and Dick a little more to really cement their relationship. This chapter is mostly flashbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I woke up and chose violence today.

Bruce was not a babysitter but he became one the moment he decided to take on a protege to carry the Wayne legacy. 

In his defense, he didn’t think this through. It was sort of an in-the-moment decision when it happened. Three years ago, this day, he felt something for the first time since his parent’s death. When tragedy struck center stage at the circus it was like he was the one shot, in that dark alley, when the ropes snapped and the Flying Grayson’s fell to their death, leaving a child alone in this cold world. 

It all happened both too quickly and in slow motion. Bruce recalled admiring how to performers danced in mid-air. He was easily impressed and slightly envious by their physical abilities. It was as if they were weightless above the world before gravity struck and like stones they fell. 

Sitting at his desk, Bruce felt another wave of melancholy overcome him at the memory he had of Dick sobbing over his parent’s bodies. The screams echoed, and the image of blood staining the child’s desperate hands grasped at their colorful uniforms, through his mind. In some twisted way, it was like recalling one of the many dramas Bruce would see in the theatre. On a stage, surrounded by a terrified audience, Dick was the perfect performer in the show written and produced by Gotham. 

Bruce almost felt terrible for replaying the scene over and over in his mind. For once, he became the viewer instead of the performer and it was almost just as exhilarating without any of the exhaustion. It was that feeling that made him confront the child and take him under his wing. 

Bruce had always assumed the Wayne legacy would end with him. It was fitting, after all, that the remaining survivor would close the curtain and leave Gotham with a faded memory, but now with Dick, he was suddenly filled with a new purpose. He didn’t want to leave the city that raised him with just a tombstone as a reminder of his life. This city deserves far greater, someone to keep the stage lights on. Bruce had dedicated his life to Gotham to keep it from crumbling under its own weight, his death would only leave it to rot in the hands of greedy men who didn’t understand that it needed one ringleader. Too many cooks in the kitchen ruin the soup, after all. 

“Woops, sorry! I didn’t realize you were brooding,” No one dared speak to Mr. Wayne like, except for the shorter Mr. Wayne who’s upbeat personality softened the older man’s heart. With Dick at his side, he didn’t feel so exhausted. 

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Bruce said seriously while his adopted son practically slammed the offices’ door behind him and strutted in like he owned the place. Not yet, but it was good he was comfortable with the territory. “Now, I know class doesn’t get out at-” He checked his watch and was surprised by the time it read, “Nevermind.”

“I take it you’ve been busy?” Dick learned fast that Bruce was easily distracted by his work. Whether it was his day job or the night one, they both demanded his focus and the man would spend hours at his desk without realizing he had worked himself into the next day. 

“An understatement, as always,” This wasn’t ideal for him. He had planned on taking Dick out tonight. He always planned an outing on the anniversary of the boys orphaning, ever since the first year when he saw how the memory had torn Dick apart. Since then, he’s done his best to distract them from the date every time it came around. But now, he still had work to do and no way to get it all done before the end of the workday. 

“Big F-” Bruce didn’t even try to decipher what that meant, “Who’s fucking up now?” 

“The real question is, who isn’t?” Bruce leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest in thought, “Sionis is dragging heels on this new deal, Luthor is asking for too much, Harvey has been bitching about his investors, Kyle is still AWOL, and some lunatic in engineering blew up one of the testing centers.” 

“Do you need me to hurt anyone?” Dick’s question earned him a stern look that just made the kid sheepishly shrug his shoulders, “I just want to help.” 

“Sadly, threatening coworkers is usually frowned upon,” So was murder, but he kept his home life separate from his work life. But maybe-this was the perfect moment to bring the two together. “You know, if you don’t have any homework, then maybe you can help me with something.” 

Dick immediately perked up and leaned over the desk between them with excitement, “Yeah?”

“How would you like to sit in on a meeting with me? It’s an important one and I could use your insight,” Bruce expected the way Dick’s shoulders sagged. If it was actual business then he rarely showed any true interest in it.

“You’re talking about W.E meetings, right?” Bruce nodded his head and Dick hung his. 

Standing up from his chair, Bruce rounded the table and clapped his son’s shoulder with a slight encouraging smile, “They can be more exciting than you’d think. I’ll have Alfred bring one of your suits. Make sure you’re dressed in thirty minutes and meet me in conference room A.” 

\---------------------------

Dick hated the suits Bruce made him wear but this was one of those things he couldn’t get the man to budge on. He used to think the billionaire was a huge pushover. It was easy to get what he wanted from the man within the first year of his adoption because it was obvious that the 30-year-old man had no idea how to parent. Dick could just run loose and do what he pleased until one of his less-than-innocent adventures got him kidnapped and held for ransom. That was also the day he learned about Bruce’s double life. 

Stripping out of his school uniform so he could pull on the crisp, white, shirt, Dick started to think back to that night. His fingers slowly pushed the buttons through their holes automatically as he tried to pick a place to start the play-by-play. 

It was like meeting him for the first time. Dick didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that the man who took him in was not only a murderer but good at it. He didn’t have a very good view of the man breaking into the hideout because he was busy being tied up on the floor, but he heard the sickening crack of bodies hitting the floor when he did. Even now, Dick could still feel the phantom touch of a gun pressed to his temple. 

Bruce didn’t even let the kidnappers beg before he snapped the guy’s arm so he dropped the weapon before using his own to blow his head off. At the moment, Dick was terrified. All he could see was the blood lining the warehouse floor and how it stuck to his shoes with a syrupy consistency. The smell was enough to make him gag and his bruised ribs finished the job of emptying his stomach. 

But, when Bruce picked him up from the mess and cut the ties away from his raw wrists, Dick was brought back by his eyes. What he thought were a cold and calculating blue were truly a deep rolling storm of emotion. He was scared. 

Dick looked at the deep navy suit and was once again reminded why he should put it on. Bruce wasn’t just another rich guy, living his life while naive of the world around him. Bruce knew just how chaotic the world could be and he was bringing order. He was a man who spent every day working to leave Dick an empire that he could be proud of and he wanted to make Bruce proud in return. 

Dick walked into the conference room, suited up, and on time as Bruce requested. The man wasn’t there yet-How like Bruce to demand punctuality but then be late for his own meetings- but a few suits were already sitting around the conference table. Dick recognized a few of the people, they also obviously wore W.E nametags that gave them away, but there were also a few unfamiliar faces. 

“Dick Wayne,” He introduced himself with his hand held out for the strangers to shake. He went down the row before ending on a man who looked far too young to be bald. 

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Please, Mr. Wayne is my father. Call me Dick.” Literally, nothing brought the orphan more joy than saying that line, “By the way, am I early or is he late?” That earned him a few chuckles around the room as he took his seat at the head of the table. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Lex Luthor-” Luthor introduced himself quickly, “ and you are right on time, but I’m afraid Wayne Senior is late,” The bald man was obviously not pleased with his time being wasted, “But I am so glad he sent his son in his place.” 

Now, this was going to be fun. Dick was getting used to being underestimated by the adults in Bruce’s life and he enjoyed getting his revenge wherever he could. Dick folded his hands in front of them and gave the table a polite smile before pushing the chair back far enough for him to kick his feet up on the edge. He did not change from his light-up sneakers so they gave a fun little flash as his heels hit the table. 

“Well, no use waiting on him when I’m here, right?” The W.E employees stared at Dick with wide, nervous, eyes while Luthor glared at his fashionable shoes-They were all just jealous. “I understand you are here about the new deal,” did Dick know about it? Well, sorta. He’s heard Bruce bitch more than once about how their partnership with Luthor was a mistake. They were working together on some new security tech but the Metropolis billionaire was too fond of cutting corners and pushing equipment out the door without the proper inspections. 

“Are we seriously going to do this?” Luthor laughed and looked around the room like he expected someone to simply pick Dick up by his collar and carry him out but no one even made eye contact with him. His laugh faded and was replaced with a scowl that Dick picked up on quickly. 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” And that’s when the room held its breath. Dick had long learned how to do the boss voice from Bruce and used it inappropriately, “I shouldn’t. I’m an acrobat, not a clown.” 

“And I need to speak to a businessman,” Luthor hissed through grit teeth. Dick could swear the top of the man’s head was starting to turn red. 

“Who said I can’t be both! Best of both worlds and all that. After all, isn’t that what you wanted? Having your cake and eating it too.” He held his hands out, showing off his continuously growing wingspan with a great gesture, “Well, this is Gotham! And when you do business in Gotham, you always get both!” He then brought his hands back together with a loud clap to enjoy the way it made everyone jump. 

Was he high? Dick didn’t touch drugs but he imagined the feeling he had was what being high felt like. He was commanding the room like a ringleader commanding the circus. He always imagined what it’d be like, being center stage like Bruce always was. His father seemed to control everything no matter the venue and now he had all eyes on him. This feeling of control was invigorating. 

“But, you see, we’re the other half. Luthor, can I call you Lex?” He didn’t wait for a response, “What you want is going to affect us and without us, this won’t work. So, if you want what you want, you have to work with us. A coin isn’t a coin without its other side,” Oh yeah-Luthors’ whole head was red now, “But that means we also don’t want you to be unhappy. So, what can I do to help you that will also help me?” 

“Good start, but I think I can take over from here,” The table all turned their heads to the door where Bruce now stood. Dick dropped his feet back down and went to get up from Bruce’s chair but stopped when the man held up his hand and motioned him to stay put, “My son is right-” Bruce continued as he rounded the table to face Luthor, “If we want to move forward then it’s you who needs to compromise.” 

Dick didn’t think he could ever get used to being called Bruce’s son. The first time he said it, they were two years in. It almost seemed like a slip of the tongue but he kept using the word until Dick called him dad in return. 

“I could walk right out of here for this disrespect!” Luthor swore, face red with anger that Dick definitely caused. For a second, he worried that Bruce was also going to get mad at him for fucking with this meeting. 

“Then walk.” Or-Bruce knew exactly what he was doing, leaving Dick here. 

\------------------------------

“Hey, Bruce?” In a turn of events, the meeting ended very well. Luthor conceded once he realized he was not getting what he wanted and they were able to wrap things up on a high, but shaky, note. Of course, this also meant that they didn’t leave the office before the sunset. It was already the end of the day before the two Wayne’s finally left the building and headed back to the manor. The drive was quiet since they were both drained from the social interaction. Bruce was always silent after work and now Dick knew why. If he had to spend all day dealing with people like Luthor, he’d also talk less. 

Dick risked breaking the comfortable silence between them but kept his voice low as if hoping the other man wouldn’t hear him, “thank you, for today. I know why you did it and I really appreciate it.” It was not how they usually spent this anniversary but it worked nonetheless. The two of them were together and it was enough to make the memory hurt less. 

Bruce’s usually severe look cracked and broke apart to make way for the small smile that graced his face. He didn’t say anything because anything that he did would just be brushed away by the kid. So, he just nodded.


	5. Potential Breakup Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has issues and no one will talk about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John’s day is step by step how I spend my weekends if no one checks in on me.

“Well, shit,” Commissioner Gordon needed a vacation. Between all the crazies running the streets of Gotham, the crazies running Gotham, and the crazies that just live here, he’s starting to lose his damned mind. 

His men idly waited for his word after bringing him another shit show that was going to be making this his busiest week that year. Just an hour ago a patrolling officer came across a body by the docks. That wasn’t shocking news in Gotham. Dead bodies were caught in fishing nets more often than actual fish at the Gotham harbor. Yup, fun stuff that Gordon did not have time for when he was already allocating most of his best detectives for the Art museum case. 

Tapping his pen against his mouth, Gordon wished he had a smoke but lately his coworkers have been getting onto him about smoking in the office. Which, why would they? It’s his fucking office! But the feel of the pen between his fingers helped curb his jittery nerves just enough to stay present. “So, someone is picking a fight with Penguin?” It didn’t take brains to figure that out, “Must be Falcone? Probably retaliation for the shootout last week,” and as much as Gordon wished he could just burst into the Iceberg lounge and start demanding answers, he couldn’t. 

Oh, but there’s one man who could. A man who had weaseled himself into the pockets of most of Gotham’s big-named crime organizers.

The room was silent as Gordon counted every way he was fucked over. With John off the force, they lost a lot of leverage they used to have with the Gotham families. The guy had a way of getting himself into tight situations and then leaving them with more than what he went in with. 

The weirdest part, he was also one of the cleanest cops in the county. Gordon was a straight-laced guy-or as straight-laced as you could get in Gotham-but he didn’t dare touch John when the detective showed him results. Gordon used to justify the leeway he gave him by saying ‘sometimes you have to fight crazy with crazy.’ 

So much for that, Gordon sighed to himself. He wouldn’t deny it; he knows exactly why John had to be taken off the streets and it was because of him. He should have reigned him in. In some roundabout way, John saw him as a friend and instead of helping, Gordon just filled his desk with cases he didn’t want to touch and left John to his own devices. 

_Way to go Jimmy-how does it feel being commissioner of the year? _John’s voice mocked him. It mocked the trust they had and the blood they bled together.__

__Fuck what anyone has to say, Gordon pulled a pack of menthols from his coat and lit up without any disregard to how his men made faces from the smell of the smoke.  
“Where’s Bullock? You tell him to rally whatever informants we have in the area to get some lead. If we don’t get anyone by tomorrow then…” Gordon left that thought hanging. Maybe he should keep this on the down-low for now, “What are you all waiting around for? Get out there!” _ _

__The officers left the office and their commissioner to stew over his work. He still had paperwork to fill out for Doe’s temporary house arrest, on top of the cat case, the string of murders that were all linked to Penguin, and now Wayne was hounding him for extra security for the charity ball. He’d pass most of this off to Bullock if he could but his old partner was also swamped with the Falcone turf war. Too much was happening at once, but what was new?_ _

__Gordon took another slow drag from the cigarette before slowly pushing the Doe files beneath the stack on his desk. Papers took time to review, and sometimes, they didn’t get filled out and sorted until the next workday. After all, he was not paid nearly enough to play babysitter for a madman._ _

__\---------------------------_ _

__Morning:_ _

__“Day one of quarantine. The infected are starting to show signs of aggression and physical changes...they are becoming grotesque,” The observer spoke into the pocket-sized recorder that was just a little too close to his lips. The recording was going to sound muffled and distorted later when played back, “Yeesh, hideously grotesque. I can barely stomach it!”_ _

__If the lady walking her pooch across from the Chinese restaurant had heard the man at all she would have surely been insulted, but luckily-or not-John was trapped behind cement walls, courtesy of the GCPD._ _

__Then just as the fun had begun, rain started to hit the windowpane with heavy taps. The droplets quickly merged until it looked like someone had taken a hose to the side of John’s apartment and removed all visibility from the inside._ _

__“It will be hard rebuilding society after such a pandemic, but being the last man alive, I have no other choice but to succeed.” His thumb flicked the recorder off and John pressed his forehead against the cold windowpane. He could no longer see past the bars and suddenly his little home felt a lot like Arkham. If he closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself that he’s still there._ _

__Nope! John thumped his head a little too hard against the window to shake himself from the thought that would surely spiral him if he didn’t stop now._ _

__Noon:_ _

__“It took too long, it took too long, it took too long. For you to call back, and normally I would just forget that. Except for the fact it was my birthday. My stupid birthday!” Bony feet slipped over the pull-out couch’s worn mattress, but John didn’t notice the fact he almost fell off or the hard springs digging into his arches. One arm flew out to his side to keep balance and the other held an old hairbrush to his mouth to mimic the microphone he was singing into._ _

__“I played along, I played along, I played along. Rolled right off my back, but obviously, my armor was cracked. What kind of a boyfriend would forget that? Who would forget that?!” Aly and AJ didn’t stand a chance against John. Their voices only provided the backup vocals and chorus to support the true star of this one-man-show._ _

__Stringy hair flipped to the side as John added his own choreography, strangely similar to the one from Just Dance, to the performance. The way he shimmied caused the thread-bare sweats on his hips to slip dangerously low. If it wasn’t for the rain, then anyone walking along the street would have gotten a free show without having to tip._ _

__When the chorus hit, John paused his singing to jump from the creaking bed and grab the water bottle by his desk for a quick drink. John idly picked at the stickers plasters along the side of his special canteen. The older ones were starting to peel but each one was given to him by an old and lost friend…_ _

__Aly and AJ yanked John back to the living world, making him toss the canister behind him so that it landed on the bed before singing again._ _

__“The type of guy who doesn't see. What he has until she leaves. "Don't let me go", 'Cause without me you know you’re lost. Wise up now or pay the cost. Soon you will know-” Throwing his head back, John belted the lyrics with the force of a tween girl experiencing her first breakup a week before prom._ _

__John’s body snapped up after bending backward during his dramatics. If anyone did witness the display they would be thoroughly impressed that a man his age could still be so flexible, however, he still felt every snap, crackle, and pop from his joints protesting the movement._ _

__“This is the potential breakup song. Our album needs just one. Oh, baby please, please tell me-”_ _

__

__Afternoon:_ _

__There is only so much singing anyone could do before getting hungry. Honestly, his doctor should be proud of him for actually eating at a normal time, “Depression who? Don’t know her, never met her!” John laughed to himself on his walk to the bathroom._ _

__Living in his office was not the most ideal situation but in John’s defense, it was technically listed as a studio apartment. He was just killing 2 birds with 1 stone by working out of it. He could even say it was more convenient this way because he wouldn’t have to deal with Gotham’s killer traffic._ _

__John felt his spirits lift even higher when he finally squeezed himself into the small shower. The showerhead itself was a bit too short so he had to hunch over to get his head underneath and actually scrub his hair. He started with his usual shampoo to get the grease that turned his locks into a stringy mess that rivaled Cobblepot’s iconically moist appearance. John started to snicker at the thought of styling his hair like the mobsters. He’d even dye his hair black if the color didn’t bring out his rosacea, but maybe he could wear a stove-top hat. Where would one buy an accessory like that? He wondered while switching to the conditioner and massaging it into his scalp._ _

__The spoons John haven’t seen in a while were suddenly in their drawers and allowed him to be thorough with his shower. He even went as far as to scrub his skin pink and raw with a sugar-scented soap until all the grime he’s collected went down the drain._ _

__John emerged from the bathroom after an hour of washing and getting lost in his thoughts under the hot spray. His hair was once again its proper strawberry blonde but he irritated his sensitive skin, with an old washcloth, until it could also be described as the color of strawberries._ _

__Still wrapped in a towel and dripping wet, John called the restaurant below him and ordered his usual pick-up. Luckily for him, living above a Food establishment meant he could get fast take-out without actually stepping foot off of the premises. They also had the best wonton soup on this side of Gotham and it’d be ready for him by the time he put clothes on._ _

__Evening:_ _

__John was technically dressed. The matching, hero-inspired, pajama set came with a shirt and pants so Mrs. Kim couldn’t chase him out of the dining area when he went down to collect his soup. The pj’s were also the perfect excuse he needed to dash away quickly before questions about his rent came up. He had half of what he owed already but wouldn’t get the rest until he finished the job. That would have been hard to explain with the ankle monitor sticking out the bottom of his pant leg._ _

__He brought the soup back up to his room and slowly started to shuffle the papers strewn over his desk back into working order. He used the newly freed space to set down his food before letting his eyes wander over the files. The burn of hot soup on his tongue barely fazed him since his mind became focused on the text._ _

__His notepads listed most of what John had already figured out. His missing person was picked up a month ago by a small-time gang that had just hit Gotham’s streets. The assumption there was that she went for drugs but got caught in a shootout caused by Penguin’s guys. She wasn’t part of the body count so she either got away or was taken. John had immediately assumed escape since the warehouse where the shootout happened was filled with hidden exits. It was used by Black Mask’s men before their leader disappeared after the Falcone takeover. John was worried he’d be taken back to step one until he got a hold of security footage that placed her at the docks._ _

__“I’m starting to doubt that you’re somebody’s wayward sister,” John hummed to himself. Whoever the Mr. M who hired him was, he was treading into mob territory, but maybe he knew that already. It was no secret that John spent a lot of time handling the local gang activity back in his time at the GCPD. If the missing person was actively involved with said activity instead of just a poor victim, then John was going to need to get a hold of his informants._ _

__The ankle monitor strapped around his foot started to itch with a reminder of his homebound problems. While his complexion had finally started to calm down the skin around the device was burning red. It irritated John to high heaven but no amount of scratching at it eased the sensation. His little mood spike from that morning started to dip and soon things started to feel too much._ _

__The room around him was small but felt smaller due to the piles of unorganized junk and suddenly he didn’t like it. Forgetting about his lunch, John started making new piles and collecting trash in his takeout bag._ _

__\---------------------------_ _

__Gordon stared at the peeling smiley face that had been painted on the office door. Its dripping smile seemed to mock him and for very good reason. No one the GCPD had brought into questioning was willing to talk. He needed John’s connections and therefore needed John._ _

__The first knock went unanswered. Gordon could hear someone on the other side shuffling around so he tried again. It was the second time that got the door to swing open John’s surprised face greeted him._ _

__“So...Superman, huh?” It probably wasn’t the smoothest greeting he’s ever made, but the grown man’s pajamas threw the detective off._ _

__“He’s the people’s hero.”_ _

__John invited Gordon inside the freshly cleaned and organized office. This time it actually looked like a workplace instead of a hoarders den. Gordon assumed John had spent the last two days cleaning and would be surprised to hear that it only took a few hours._ _

__With respect for John’s newly cleared space, Gordon took his trenchcoat off since it was heavy with rain that would drip everywhere. “Sorry for dropping in like this.”_ _

__“Hey, it’s fine. Not like I was gettin any sleep anyways,” Which was true. Despite the time, John was feeling more restless than tired, “What can I do for you?” John tried to keep his tone casual but his curiosity was evident. He doubted Gordon was here for a smoke and chatted like old times._ _

__“Just wanted to talk. Do you mind if I smoke?” Or, maybe John was wrong._ _

__John brought Gordon over to the window so he could crack it open just enough to keep the rain out and let the tobacco smoke through._ _

__Gordon lit his cigarette and gave a deep sigh as he sat by the window but he didn’t say anything more. He didn’t have to when John pulled something from the mini-fridge by his desk before returning to his side to sit next to him. In his hands was a bottle of margarita mix that Gordon was certain he wasn’t supposed to have, but before he could say anything about it John had started talking for the two of them._ _

__“How’s Barbie doin? Last I heard your little girl was a chip off the old block and gettin a scholarship. Well, I heard that a couple of months ago, but-you know...She still has another year of school left, right? Time sure does fly-” John opened the chilled bottle in his hands as he chatted away._ _

__Gordon eyed the label on the bottle before deciding that 12% marg was not the hill he wanted to die on tonight._ _

__“Makes you feel old, huh? I feel old. Think I should start doin yoga, you know? Just to keep my body in top-tip shape.”_ _

__This was just the reminder he needed. John was still John even after everything that had happened. In some strange way, Gordon had been expecting him to lash out but John just kept treating their relationship like a friendship. The thought of being forgiven so easily made Gordon feel a little queasy, but he wouldn’t voice that out loud. If John wanted to act as nothing changed, then so would he._ _

__“Computer engineering. She has some scholarship for girls who want to go into STEM. Don’t ask me about it because it’s all stuff I can’t wrap my head around but, she’s excited,” Gordon was very proud of his daughter and believed she would do great things._ _

__“Hmmm, I thought she wanted to be a cop?” John took another swig before deciding to offer some to his guest._ _

__“I talked her out of it. With a brain as big as hers, she’s better off actually helping people than following my footsteps.” With the direction this conversation was going, Gordon accepted the offer and tried not to make a face when he tasted the sour alcohol._ _

__“Smart move,” John agreed and they once again fell into a comfortable silence._ _

__Gordon took one more gulp before passing the bottle back to John who impressively downed the rest of the contents. It wasn’t a big bottle, to begin with, but he knew there was probably enough to get John buzzed and his suspicions were confirmed when a large blush spread over the man’s face._ _

__“Mmmmm, don’t let Jimmy hear it, but he’s pretty smart too. Even when he’s kind of a dick,” Gordon felt a little chastised by John’s tone. He deserved being called a dick but he wasn’t too sure what warranted it. While mulling over the words, he didn’t notice the way John was eyeing him._ _

__John had taken the moment of silence between them to look Gordon over while the commissioner smoked over the window. He seemed older since the last time they’ve worked together. It had hardly been a year but the few strands of grey that made Gordon look distinguished now covered his whole head. Even his mustache had gone silver._ _

__John opened his mouth to comment on Gordon being a silver fox before getting cut off._ _

__“You know, I can’t wrap my head around you either. You’re a smart man John, why are you doing all this?” Gordon worried the cigarette between his fingers and kept his eyes on the embers to avoid looking at John._ _

__“I dunno,” John shrugged but he knew that wouldn’t be enough for Gordon so he searched his brain for a better answer, “Because it’s fun?”_ _

__“Fun...yeah that sounds about right,” But it didn’t. Sure, John had made it clear that he enjoyed the challenge but Gordon knew there was something else. He just couldn’t pin it. “It’s not like I expected you to go into retail.”_ _

__That got a sharp laugh out of John that was followed by his obnoxious cackling, “Retail! Could you imagine that? I’d get taken right back to Arkham for stabbing someone within the first week!”_ _

__The mention of Arkham raised alarms in Gordon’s mind but the filter he should have didn’t work and he started to laugh along with John, “Week?” My money would be on the first day.”_ _

__“Maybe an hour?”_ _

__There was a moment for both men to process the conversation they were having before going right back to laughing with one another._ _

__When they finally calmed down enough to catch their breaths Gordon motioned towards the thick, black, strap around John’s leg where it peaked out from beneath his pant leg. The smile that was once on Gordon’s face became a little more pressed like he was debating his next sentence. John waited for him with bated breath._ _

__“I don’t know how many cheating spouses you’re trailing this week, but-” Gordon shook his head. He could blame the margarita tomorrow but that would be stupid. He hardly drank enough to justify this stupid decision. Not to mention, it was a decision he made before showing up on John’s door._ _

___“Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut?” _John leered with a too-wide grin that put Gordon on edge.__ _ _

____“We are spread thin right now. Do you think I can pick you up tomorrow at 6?”_ _ _ _

____“I dunno, can you?”_ _ _ _

____“You’d be hired for your time and I’ll have the radius extended for it. I just need your thoughts on a scene. That’s. It.”_ _ _ _

____“Pfft, deal!” John smiled gleefully before leaning over until they were pressed shoulder to shoulder, “I _kneeeeeew _you’d miss me.”___ _ _ _


End file.
